The Next Great Adventure
by Heldor
Summary: Dumbledore writes a letter to Flamel. Flamel is peeved.


To my dear friend,

Nicholas- has it really been 5 years? When last we met we left on less than ideal terms- hard words were said, and untrue. That which I said about you… should not have been said, some of that which I did… should not have been done.

So it was with some delight that I received your package, almost one year ago now, seeing it as a sign that perhaps, at last, our friendship might be at a crossroads, that we might be able, once again, to spend those long evenings in front of the fire, discussing nonsense- verse, theatre, that little restaurant we liked to visit at the winter solstice. Do you and Perenelle still visit it? I myself went there a few years past with another acquaintance of mine- it was pleasant enough but felt intrinsicely wrong.

I have enjoyed our exchanges this year- receiving a letter from you leaves a smile on my lips still- none are able in quite the same way as you to plant an idea in my brain and make me sit on it all day, itching to try something new, experiment- none, certainly, but you has the ability to make myself think in Ancient Greek all day- how many languages is it you speak now? 10? 20? Surely you have learnt more in our time of silence. Perhaps you can educate me on them again as you once did- I would like that.

Enough of the long-past. I was very happy to hear you and Perenelle enjoyed your trip to the Seychelles- I hear they had a particularly fine spring this year, but no doubt Nepal missed you in April- It was Columbia this year you went to? Or perhaps Bali? I love my fair Hogwarts, but sometimes I do envy your wandering life style- do you remember our youth? Long hours tramping the countryside, me afraid you would discover I was a wizard- you afraid I would discover you were some 4 centuries my elder. That night of our mutual discovery makes me smile still- the scar remains on my thigh in memoriam. I haven't gotten lost on the tube since.

However, to business. As you know, Nicholas, my fellow professors worked in unison to create a truly fiendish trapping to protect your precious stone. However, last night a terrible thing occurred- a traitor was discovered amongst my staff- rumours of dark deeds thought long-done and ended have been dredged up. Even in the once-safe confines of this precious school I now fear that darkness may soon stalk again. You remember I would speak occasionally of a certain man- one of the few to have ever truly caused my blood to run cold. Tom Riddle- self proclaimed Lord Voldemort. Yes, Nicholas, it was he to whom my seemingly-loyal professor turned. His betrayal stung almost as sharp as the fear I felt for my students.

The man came close to closing a hand around the stone itself, but was deterred by one particularly ingenious student. You may have heard of him over the course of our discussions- Harry Potter.

In the process, I am afraid we lost the stone- I do not speak of a trivial misplacement- the stone was destroyed. I know it has been sometime since you lost the books of Abraham, and so I tell you with a smile that at last you are free of it.

I remember once, a particularly long night of discussion, when we had talked since early afternoon to early morning, and we were in a sombre mood. We turned to talk of our own longevity. I remember you speaking, in what I thought even then in my youth as a very tired voice, of a curiosity, a longing- a view of Death as being the next great adventure- at that you seemed to come awake, I could see again your curiosity burning. I have since seen you gutter, burn out- I tell you now once more, you are free- the stone is destroyed- My friend… You are free.

Your friend,

Albus.

Tight lipped, Nicholas read the letter over again, turning it over futilely in the hopes of discovering something more on the back. Perenelle was knitting by the light of a small lamp, a large book resting in a stand beside her. The room was covered in crocheted coverlets, afghans, the walls covered in frames of decoupage and dainty watercolours- several lifetimes over of craft-based-hobbies. He placed the letter on the table with a little more force than was necessary and read it once more, his lips moving almost imperceptibly as he did so.

Finally, he picked it up, screwed it viciously into a ball and threw it at the wall with as much strength as he could muster.

"DAMN YOU DUMBLEDORE!" he bellowed, causing Perenelle to drop her needles, "IT WAS YOU WHO DAMN WELL SAID THAT! Death's the next great adventure my ARSE! I wanted to live forever!"

Perenelle simply blinked and picked up a few dropped stitches as her husband fumed.

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A/N: hehe, many thanks to stella8h8chang who made me realise I had made a really stupid typo! :P Editted to correct that and also just beta-read myself a little :P


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